You're Gonna Go Far, Kid
by bekaz13
Summary: Allan-centric songfic, takes place after 2x05, so spoilers through that episode. Rating for language in the lyrics.


_**Disclaimer:** This version of Robin Hood belongs to the BBC. The song ("You're Gonna Go Far, Kid") belongs to The Offspring._

_**Author's Note: **This has been a work in progress for several weeks, and it proved to be a challenge to say everything I wanted to without rambling on for pages and pages and ending up with a huge puddle of word vomit. So hopefully that's not what happened. Anyway, I thought it would be appropriate to post this today, just in time for the birthday of the wonderfully talented Joe Armstrong, as it was his character who decided to sit in my brain and talk incessantly at me for weeks until I got this all written. Not that I'm complaining. ;)_

_On a side note, a huge thanks goes to everyone who reviewed my other two fics. This one goes out to you!_

* * *

_Show me how to lie  
You're getting better all the time  
And turning all against the one  
Is an art that's hard to teach_

It was exhilarating, that was definitely true. The whole thing was one big adrenaline rush: digging around for information, seeing just how many questions he could ask before the others got suspicious, slipping away unnoticed and carefully rematerializing hours later. It was all a challenge to him, and he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it.

_Another clever word  
Sets off an unsuspecting herd  
And as you step back into line  
A mob jumps to their feet_

When he really thought about it, that last part was pretty ironic. Not being funny, but that was how he had gotten into this situation in the first place, wasn't it? He had disappeared for hours, and no one had even noticed his absence. He wasn't completely surprised, to be honest, but he had hoped that _someone_ would have missed him. But they hadn't, and they had done just fine without him, hadn't they?

Not being funny, but it was almost starting to seem like they didn't need him anymore. Actually, it was exactly like that. Without even realizing it, he had become...not _expendable_, exactly...just, not really necessary. Like he was extra, a spare body to shove in a guard's uniform when they needed it.

_Now dance, fucker, dance  
Man, he never had a chance  
And no one even knew  
It was really only you_

It made sense, he supposed. Everyone else in the gang had a specific role to play:

Robin was the leader, selfless to a fault. And, of course, loved to pieces by everyone.

Much, though Allan would never admit it, was pretty high up there as well. The former servant took care of the gang, all of them, no matter how horribly they treated him. Which was a blessing, because being able to tease Much was frequently all that kept the rest of the gang from attacking each other. He was the glue that held them together.

John was as close to a second-in-command as the gang had, the voice of reason when the others got carried away, and a sort of surrogate father when they needed one.

Djaq, he had come to realize, was not "the woman," or "the Saracen," as he had initially thought. Instead, she had quickly proven to be the fiercest fighter of all of them. But at the same time, she was (and continued to be) the most caring, intelligent, and beautiful person he knew.

And Will, his best friend, and his polar opposite—quiet, passionate, and frustratingly honest—was the most talented. Allan didn't think there was _anything_ that boy couldn't do with a bit of wood and a knife.

But then there was Allan himself. The loud, selfish, pathological liar. Not being funny, but that wasn't exactly the most flattering title. But that's what he was. Nothing more, and quite possibly less. Sure, he had come up with a couple ingenious ways in and out of the castle, but so had almost everyone else. That was nothing special. _He_ was nothing special.

_And now you steal away  
Take him out today  
Nice work you did  
You're gonna go far, kid_

Maybe that was one reason he had given in to Gisbourne that day, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. He knew he should have resisted, should have kept his mouth shut, should have, well, _died_ before betraying his friends. But as he stood there, sagging against the ropes that held him to the post, there had been a tiny voice in his subconscious that wondered, _would they even notice?_

Thinking back on it, the answer was obvious. Not being funny, but he wasn't making much of a difference helping them, was he? They clearly didn't miss him now, so what did he have to lose by working against them?

_With a thousand lies  
And a good disguise  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
When you walk away  
Nothing more to say  
See the lightning in your eyes  
See 'em running for their lives_

For whatever reason, he had agreed, and was surprised to find that it wasn't even as bad as he had anticipated. The extra money in his purse didn't weigh him down as he feared it would; instead, its presence was comforting, a long-awaited reassurance that he mattered. That he was somehow, finally, making a difference. Alright, so it was maybe...well, probably...ok, _definitely_ not a difference for the better, but he'd tried that, hadn't he? And a lot of good that'd done him.

_Slowly out of line  
And drifting closer in your sights  
So play it out I'm wide awake  
It's a scene about me_

So after a while, whenever a mission went bad or a shipment escaped their traps, he found himself having to force the old mask back onto his face--the sympathetic, "life's hard all around" look he had gotten so good at back when he was just an ordinary thief, picking pockets and conning gamblers. Because inside, he was pretty damn pleased with himself. Not because of his friends' failure, of course, but just because he was the reason for it.

_There's something in your way  
And now someone is gonna pay  
And if you can't get what you want  
Well it's all because of me_

Sure, he wasn't exactly proud of his actions (though the poor couldn't miss what they never got, could they?), but it was nice to see that he, Allan A Dale: humble thief, could change something.

_Now dance, fucker, dance  
Man, I never had a chance  
And no one even knew  
It was really only you_

Better yet, his services were actually in demand! He was worth something to someone, more than just the occasional pat on the back and rare, "well done" from Robin. The chest of money that made it to the castle, the coins in his purse--this was actual, tangible proof that something changed because of him. And it felt good.

_And now you'll lead the way  
Show the light of day  
Nice work you did  
You're gonna go far, kid  
Trust, deceived!_

It continued like that for a while, selling information to Gisbourne while Marian slipped secrets to Robin (of course he'd never tell Gizzy _that_, he'd never hurt Robin that way). It wasn't until after the pestilence scare, when Roger of Stoke was killed, that he really started to doubt the innocence of his actions. As soon as he saw the messenger fall, it hit him—he wasn't just selling secrets, he was selling lives. And not just Roger's, but the life of every person who depended on the gang for support. They were counting on them—on _him_—for help, and he was taking that away from them. He was betraying their trust as well as the gang's, and that hit him harder than anything else.

And it scared him. Because it meant that he cared, that he had finally (that is, regrettably) developed some semblance of a conscience. Not being funny, but that was something he had tried to avoid at all costs. But it had happened. Despite all his best efforts to distance himself from the gang, despite the walls he put up, despite the mask he now wore constantly when he was with them, it seemed that they had rubbed off on him after all.

_With a thousand lies  
And a good disguise  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
When you walk away  
Nothing more to say  
See the lightning in your eyes  
See 'em running for their lives_

_Now dance, fucker, dance  
He never had a chance  
And no one even knew  
It was really only you_

_So dance, fucker, dance  
I never had a chance  
It was really only you_

Maybe that was why he hadn't fought back, hadn't gotten down on his knees in the darkened inn and begged for Robin's forgiveness. Because he knew that he deserved it. He deserved to be kicked out of the gang, and he deserved to die. Not being funny, but that's what should have happened in the beginning, before he had agreed to play this stupid game in the first place.

_With a thousand lies  
And a good disguise  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
When you walk away  
Nothing more to say  
See the lightning in your eyes  
See 'em running for their lives_

But he had been a coward, afraid of death and afraid of being forgotten, of being worthless. He had betrayed the gang and the the poor, the only people who had ever trusted him, for pitiful self-assurance. And what had he gotten from it? A few coins and a lifetime of shame.

And he had lost his friends. That was the worst part of the whole disgusting affair. He had gotten into this mess thinking he had everything to gain, when in reality, he had everything to lose. And he lost it all.

_Clever alibis  
Lord of the flies  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
When you walk away  
Nothing more to say  
See the lightning in your eyes  
See 'em running for their lives_

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Not sure how well I captured his voice, constructive criticism is much appreciated! :)_


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